


it kills to know you have been defeated (i see the wires pulling while you're breathing)

by chemicalpixie



Series: glory and gore go hand in hand (that's why we're making headlines) [2]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: M/M, SHSL Despair - Freeform, Too Many Metaphors, poor self-esteem, ultimate despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 07:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7791952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicalpixie/pseuds/chemicalpixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“he'd only gotten anywhere near her to try and fix his classmates, to try and bring them hope and lead them back into the safe lights of the harbor, but instead, he too fell into the choppy waters.”</p><p>or; nagito komeada's descent into despair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it kills to know you have been defeated (i see the wires pulling while you're breathing)

nagito komeada didn't have parents. not anymore. his parents had died and he had something wrong with him, and despite it all, he still had _hope_.  
he had _hope_ because he was surrounded by _talent_.

//

his talent was that he wasn't special. luck wasn't a talent, though nagito did find it incredibly useful. but surrounded by people who had real, visceral talent, he didn't _compare_. he wasn't worth _anything_. 

//

and then, a boy bumped into him on the streets during his suspension. nagito didn't think it was much then, but later he saw it for what it was. it was his luck at work.  
because, as it turned out, this boy (this boy, _god_ , this boy, and his _hair_ and his _eyes_ ) had nowhere to stay. so nagito let him move in. and then it turned out that this boy was (no, had been made, had been _sculpted_ by modern-day _gods_ , had been spit out of some kind of scientific laboratory as a _being_ of _heaven_ walking the earth) to bring _hope_ and _talent_ to the world. and he found the world so _boring_ , so _pitiful_ and _weak_ and _plain_ , and it was all nagito could do not to kiss this boy in ways that would make them both _weak_ at the knees and made their hearts pound as though those hearts had _never_ beat for anyone else.  
but he couldn't do that. he _couldn't_. he _just_ couldn't. so he settled for falling asleep near him and waking in the morning tangled together, their skin clammy from sleeping with the other close. 

//

and when he eventually went back to hope's peak, his classmates were the same and he was awed to be in their presence once again. but he could see what was happening to them, he could see them _rotting_ from the inside out, pieces of who they used to be peeling away to reveal the sickeningly-sweet rotten core. and then junko took him in and he couldn't resist her (her charm and her despair were both so _tempting_ , glimmering red like the apple and the pomegranate of days past). he saw why all those people, all those kids, all of them one thousand times _better_ and _stronger_ and more _talented_ than him had fallen. he'd only gotten anywhere near her to try and fix his classmates, to try and bring them hope and lead them back into the safe lights of the harbor, but instead, he too fell into the choppy waters. he loved it and he hated it, in the same way that he loved and hated her. he would do anything she asked, but he _hated_ and _despised_ himself every second that he did it. of course she had caught him like a spider in her web of despair. she had captured and eaten all of his (so much more _talented_ , so much _better_ ) classmates already. of _course_ she could catch him too. 

//

on the day that the world ends, nagito is waiting. he is waiting for the girl junko ordered him to meet. and then he sees her. she's young, but has a kind of expression on her face that screams that she would kill you if you were so much as to touch her. she's in a wheelchair and nagito can see in her eyes that she is under junko's hold, though she only looks about eleven. she can't be much older than that. she _can't_ be.  
“hmm,” she says, when she first notices him, as though he is entirely below her. he probably is, he realizes. junko wouldn't bother with normal people. making them despair is just too little for her. these kids must be talented. of course. “you. servant. come on, already,” she snaps. he _grins_ and follows her. 

//

they don't bother introducing themselves to his lowly self. he gathers their names slowly, through overheard conversations as he's _ordered_ around and _kicked_ and _bullied_. he doesn't mind, of course. if he did, he could _hurt_ them. but he would _never_. they are _better_ than him. their talents are _emerging_ and blooming and his petals have already _fallen_ from grace.  
they are the warriors of hope, the ones junko ordered him to serve, the children who will someday rule this despair-filled world with a _bloody_ crown.  
there is monaca, the queen, who, no matter how much she called herself a “mage”, would never do anything but _rule_.  
there is nagisa, her prince, her knight in shining armor who she could twist around her finger as easily as breathing. she would make him do anything for her and he would love it. he was a “sage”, a wise man, but, _god_ , how easily she _blinded_ him.  
there was matsaru, her hero, the one who would fight for her, and for whom those fights would come more easily and more naturally than any others for the rest of his life. despite being a “hero”, his quest for her could never _truly_ end.  
there was jataro, her priest, the one who kept her safe and prayed to the gods that walked in the heavens and the earth, and it was almost painful to see this boy who could be a god, who was a “priest” worship at her alter. _poor_ boy, didn't he know she was only a false idol?  
and then there was kotoko, her damaged bruised princess bleeding away in a tower. she kept her close, locked away, as though afraid the girl would get a taste of freedom and run. but despite the girl's magic spells to keep danger away, she could never save herself from her past, or from those who kept her so _tightly_ locked away.  
they are better than him, all of them. they have _talent_. junko knew they were _worthy_. they are _worthy_ , they are _worthy_.

//

he sneaks away occasionally, to visit izuru. how could he not? nagito loves junko in the way that one loved a _god_ , or a _religion_ , but he could never love anyone in the soul-consuming way that he loved izuru. izuru is his heart and his mind and everything good that has ever happened to him. they sit in silence on the roof, most days (how izuru found everything else but this boring, nagito will never know), but he does admit it has a certain kind of peaceful beauty. watching something _destroy_ itself could never be anything but a kind of unique beauty.

//

and then he hears mikan is gone. he hadn't heard much about her in the first place, but now that she is gone, it is news. and he overhears that the high school where junko barricaded herself is empty, and that she is just _lying_ there. nagito realizes, one day. he has to know what being her feels like. he has to know. he will feel her inside him if he removes his own hand and replaces it with hers. hers will be so much better. he will feel a fraction of her talent. he will be _talented_. he will be _worthy_.

//

and so he takes a knife and slips into the school. he wanders for a bit, but then finds her. she's on top of a trash heap, bloodied and smelling like something bloated and rotten. he slices off her hand and his own, and his bleeds. it bleeds so much, and the scent of iron fills the air and makes him gag. he sloppily sews it on his stump. there. his work here is done. he must show izuru. but then, men grab his arms, and shove a cloth over his mouth. they are shouting, but it is garbled. he _can't_ let them do this. he is a part of her. he knows her. he is a part of her, _he is he is he is_ -


End file.
